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I found myself thinking back to my freshman year of college, when I coined the…

laying on the floor thinking about stuff

…playlists that I still make today.

If you’ve been there, then you know – dorm rooms weren’t very big. My roommate 202 and I did ended up doing the laying down listening to music thing all the time. The songs I listened to back then are like therapy. Play me some Something Corporate and I’m right back there in my dorm room with the smell of burnt popcorn from down the hall and the sound of various friends yelling up at our window, because we were right above the door to the lobby.

In tiny little picture version, this is where I spent an excessive amount of 2005 and 2006.

So, I started making a list of those songs. The ones that pretty much summed up that year of life, because for some reason, that’s one of those really vivid years in my memory. I even went back and looked at an old journal and found out that Yes, these songs are those memories, and if you’re ever trying to time travel ala Christopher Reeves, this is what you should listen to.

Dean started hanging out in my room a lot more. After dinner, when Nicole went off to rehearsal, he’d come over, eating my food and sneaking in beer. He and I had what I considered a real college friendship. We’d bash W . and contemplate how the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s had saved us from teenage angst.

And…

I lay down on the floor of the dorm room. I had the Yeah Yeah Yeahs playing on repeat, Karen O wailing over and over.

“They don’t love you like I love you…” I whispered along, not able to move, or not wanting to.

I did a project on St. Valentine once for my 10th grade religion class. My teacher was a nun, and gave me an A- for seeming completely nonplussed about St. Valentine’s martyrdom.

“Are you happy about this Saint, Laura? He dies.“

I wish I had a picture of this nun, complete with sound recording, to show you exactly how distressed she was by my attitude. It ever so perfectly sums up how I am towards Valentine’s day.

I wouldn’t be too surprised too, if St. Valentine was in the same boat as me on today’s culture though — chocolate and hearts and OHMIGOD, I DIED FOR MY RELIGION and all.

Here, in no particular order are my favorite Valentine’s tales of my life, thus far.

1. My first Valentine.

My seventh grade boyfriend and I fostered a great love, that spanned two skating parties, my first kiss, and approximately five months. That’s basically marriage, guys. Love and marriage, Catholic school style. The relationship did pass by a Valentine’s day, which meant we gave each other gifts and stuff — I actually don’t remember what I gave him – color me shocked, as usually I remember everything.

It was probably like…a rhyming poem, typed in size 12, impact font.

But he gave me chocolate and a card. It was very nice, and I remember opening it up, all excited and….

We submitted why we should be allowed to watch hockey on Valentine’s Day.

Men are good at disappointing. There are the men that don’t call, the men that won’t stop calling, and the men that don’t appreciate you. That’s why we want to spend our Valentine’s Day with the Red Wings, the men who have never really let us down. 98 new potentials couldn’t hurt either. This Valentine’s Day, we don’t want chocolates, roses, or even a candlelit dinner. We want cold beer, rowdy fans, and a Red Wings victory. The only red we want to see is blood on the ice.

High school really did more of the same thing that middle school did. Holidays would come around and we would send candy to each other to support like…athletics and stuff. I’m not actually sure where the money we spent went. Except the bon bons. If you bought bon bons, you were definitely supporting the Latin Club and the Latin teacher’s probable drinking habit because my latin class was definitely a reason to drink.

By this point of life, I had realized that I was really socially awkward, and had no idea how I’d managed to straggle successfully through my formative years thus far. I was single probably because of all those things, and maybe because I once tried to make a utility belt out of crushed velvet and the back pockets out of a pair of jeans to carry my pens and TI-83 in.

This utility belt was actually made out of my Halloween 1999 “punk rock” costume.

Weird little L.A.

Imagine my surprise then, and the surprise of my girl friends, when I received a candy-gram.

To L.A.

From: ???

Instead of a message, this person drew an arrow, pointing to the computer printed bear saying Happy Valentine’s Day. We never did find out who sent that one.

4. Nothing says I love you like a text message.

Because the college version of me was so romantic, I chose to send my love not by flowers or candy, but by text.

This was college L.A. You’re probably less surprised that I texted Happy Valentine’s now. Please note that I am wearing an NES wristband and have a flip phone clipped to my pocket.